


What Could Have Been

by uzumagay



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, Sad Mickey, he just wants to be happy with ian help this poor boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-19
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-21 15:53:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6057334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uzumagay/pseuds/uzumagay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey imagines the date him and Ian would have had, if not for Sammi.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Could Have Been

**Author's Note:**

> this is set the night of s6 ep1 after ian visits and refers directly to s5 ep12

_ “Yeah, Mick, I’ll wait.” _

It was a lie, and they both know it. It pissed him off that he knew it, that Ian couldn’t get the fucking will to make it even sound real, just for a second. 

Even if it wasn’t real, he wanted to hear that Ian missed him, like when he visited in juvie. He wanted Ian to put his hand on the goddamn glass, and he wanted to put his hand over Ian’s and convince himself he could feel his hand warming his own through it. He wanted something to go back to his cell with and think about at night when he was falling asleep, pretending that Ian was sleeping next to him. 

Eight years was too much for him to handle without Ian coming to see him. His hand came up and ran over the tattoo on his chest, frowning at it. He loved it; he was pissed that he spelled his fucking name wrong, but he still loved it. 

In some weird, fucked up symbolism, it made sense. He loved Ian so much, but there’s was so much fucked up about their situation that he had to screw this up as well.

Mickey forced himself not to sigh, not wanting to make a sound and wake him his fucking batshit crazy cellmate. He turned onto his side, facing the wall. He stared at it, unable to think of anything but Ian. 

Letting his eyes close, he let himself think about the night Ian was arrested by the MPs, how they planned to go to Sizzlers and have their first date. He imagined how that would have went, the both of them still a little drunk, sitting across from each other and laughing too loudly in the probably empty restaurant, since it was so late when they decided. 

Maybe Ian grab his hand, and Mickey would let Ian hold it. He’d squeeze it tight and hold it the whole night, letting anyone around see that he was so fucking in love with the boy in front of him.

For the first time, they’d ask questions about each other, truth spilling out from the liquid courage. Ian would ask things that he’d never answer sober, like his happiest moment or what he noticed first about Ian. It would be gross and sappy and Mickey would love every single moment of seeing Ian happy -- not manic, but happy. Happy to just be with Mickey, like he used to be.

They’d go back to Mickey’s, stumbling over each other as they walked, not singing Love is a Battlefield this time. It was a nice quiet with little laughs as they bumped into each other and the sounds of lips against each other when they paused to press kisses against lips and cheeks and noses. They would race each other when they saw Mickey’s house, both nearly falling. 

When they got inside, Ian would pull him close, his nose pressed against Mickey’s neck, and Mickey would remember when Ian was asked if he loved Mickey, and his response had been  _ I like the way he smells. _

“Do you love me?” he’d ask brazenly, words filled with alcohol and a smile as he was pressed against his front door, fingers running through Ian’s hair. 

“‘Course I do, Mick,” Ian’s words would be whispered against his skin, and Mickey could just _ feel _ his body warm at the emotion that would swell inside of him. He’d smile at Ian, whispering that he loved him too, and they’d kiss softly, so unlike what they normally did.

There would be a frustratingly slow build despite how drunk Ian was. His own buzz was slowly waning, but the lithium in Ian would keep the feeling longer. They wouldn’t have sex (partly because Mickey didn’t want to get into that in his head at the moment, what with not being alone in the room, and also because of Ian’s trouble getting it up because of the medication), but they’d pull each other into Mickey’s bedroom, shedding their clothes down to boxers and getting under the blankets. They would face each other, foreheads pressing together and hands gently running over bare skin affectionately. 

“You need your meds,” Mickey would remind, and he would get up and grab the ones Ian kept for when he was over just in case. Ian wouldn’t fight it right now, taking the offered medicine and the drink along with it. Once that was done, Mickey would climb back into bed and Ian would rest his head on Mickey’s shoulder.

They would whisper their “I love you”s to each other once more, Ian quickly falling asleep in his arms.

Mickey let himself imagine he was back in the bedroom with him, watching Ian sleep peacefully next to him, falling asleep alone in his jail cell.

**Author's Note:**

> can mickey just please be happy   
> talk to me or request things at uzumagay.tumblr.com


End file.
